March 2nd, 1946
2030
Vichtenstein, France (near the border of Germany)
Genoa and his gang of well fitted misfits waltzed into "La Taverne et L'auberge Du Renard Sournois' '. "Bonjour !" said a sweet voice from the counter. There was a beautiful, thin and voluptuous blonde french desk woman present. "Uh, bonjour madame - HEY SHUT THE FUCK UP" Genoa had turn to shout at Pfc Garcia and Pvt Dancer who had been making kissing faces and notions towards the womans breasts whilst Genoa had begun to speak to her. Garcia and Dancer went pale as ghosts. All of a sudden, behind them appeared Sgt. Derringer. Derringer placed a hand on both Garcias and Dancers shoulder. He smiled and said "Oh I see you boys have a lot of energy? That truck ride didn't tucker you out one bit eh ? Well, let's step outside for a moment. I'll make sure you boys are ready for bed." Derringer then grabbed both boys by the color and drug them outside.
Genoa turned his attention back to the desk keep. She was laughing at the whole situation and twirling her hair at Genoa. He blushed beet red and with a little help from his french dictionary explained "We are here for some nearby exercises and we should have three rooms. All should be booked under either Houser or Genoa."
She smiled back and spoke in english: "Ah yez. Lt. Genoa? We ave been expecting you. Right zis way.''She spoke with a very thick Belgian accent. She led them up the stairs to the second floor and showed them to their rooms. "Each vroom it as four beds, and basic anemninties, Breakfast is at zeven o'clock. And zee taverne it opens at noon. Myzelf or my companione vill be down zee stair at zee desk if you have questions." Genoa nodded and thanked her. She turned to leave.
Then, Derringer followed by Dancer and Garcia came up the stairs. Derringer was still smiling, but Dancer and Garcia were soaked in sweat. They nodded nervously at the desk keep and said "Good night mam." and sulked off to their rooms. "Frank I tell ya. I make soldiers either smart, or strong. And right now, they are on track to be my strongest boys yet."
After parting ways with their superiors, Dancer, Garcia, Gadot, and Horowitz were winding down for the night. Dancer and Garcia had bathed and changed into pyjamas. Gadot had dove straight into bed, he had been exhausted Horowitz was typically very talkative but not tonight. Recently he had received a book.
"Contemporary Hebrew and Arabic legends" by Tomas Eden, and he had had his face glued to it the entire journey. Horowitz was scrawny, and skinny. He didn't look like being a soldier soldier would've been his first career choice. He had brown curly hair, rectangular glasses, brown eyes, a large nose and a semi nasally brooklyn accent to go with it. And he was very thankful to be in Genoa's unit. He'd worked hard to prove himself to transfer from his infantry group, and eventually he'd stuck out enough for Genoa to select him for his own personal squad. At the time, Genoa was in need of someone who was agile, had proficient marksmanship, and was capable of speaking German. And it just so happened Horowitz fit the bill. He got along well with Lt. Genoa. After all, Genoa was from Philadelphia and Horowitz was from Brooklyn. They had similar mannerisms, values and senses of humor as such. Moreover what was appreciated was the fact that Genoa generally didn't leave ambiguity in his instructions. Horowitz knew what was expected of him. And that was that.
Dancer, Gadot and Garcia were playing pee-knuckle on a night stand. Horowitz was reading some of his old letters from home, as well as a new one from a female companion he had quite fancied before he left. All of a sudden, the four men jumped to their feet. "You hear that?" Garcia said. "Check it." Gadot muttered. All four had heard. Shuffling outside of the window. Garcia ran over to the window, he thrust it open. Dancer shoved a lantern out into the open, illuminating the dark bushes below. Gadot peered over the side of the window. "Look, it's a dog. By the looks of it, it belongs to someone." Below in the bushes, there was a yellow labrador. Wearing a red collar, and strangely enough a red cap. It looked up at them, its tongue hanging out. The dog might as well have been smiling at them.
"Get ! Go on ! Vamanos ! " Garcia hollered. He threw an apple from his pack at it. Bullseye. The apple bonked the dog square on the nose. The labrador winced and sneezed. Then it looked directly at Garcia and snarled before turning to stride away. "That was a bit uncalled for." Horowitz chided him. "Mangy bastard, why is it just creeping around at night like that? Serves it right. Maybe now it'll fuck off for home. Teach it to fuck with me." Garcia yawned. The fatigue of the day's journey had begun to catch all of them. They made for bed, and dimmed their lights.
Genoa, accompanied by Derringer and Cpl Doukas and Cpl. Fantanski headed for bed. They had a simple room to share. Houser hadn't gone overboard with anything fancy. But, at the very least they had enough beds for the unit. A luxury not to be overlooked after being at war for three years. "Watch out, there's a spider there, Fantanski." Derringer warned. Fantaski had put his bag on the bed and was getting ready to sit on the bed as a large spider had spun down from the ceiling. "Fuck !" Fantanski swatted it away. "Great going. Now who knows where the fuck it went." Doukas murmured, shaking his head. Genoa walked in the room. "What's all this fuss?"
"Nothing sir. Just a spider messin with Fantanski. Where do we start tomorrow?" Derringer asked. "Alright, so here's the plan. I'll begin asking around the inn and the surrounding buildings. Fantanski will go with me. Derringer, you take Dancer, Garcia, Horowitz, and Gadot and canvas the north side of the village. And Doukas will take Henry, Hightower, McHarrigan, and Broussard to canvas the south. Pretty much, we're just looking for info on where the wolves are, possible dens, sightings. Anything of that nature." Genoa lit a cigarette as he finished speaking. The thin wispy smoke and smell fell throughout the room. He reached over and cracked the window. There was a nice chilly spring rain falling heavily outside. "Ay Derry, I'll trade you Henry for Gadot." Cpl. Fantanski smiled. "Ha only in your wildest wettest dreams. Gadots not a bad soldier. He tries, albeit he's more the reading writing type than the boot to ass type. I can work with him. Henry? Fuck that dirtbag. He's in your squad."
Spc. Henry was a medium height and overweight young man from Kentucky. He joined the army in 1944 towards the end of the campaign. But he'd proven himself a fine sharpshooter early on. Yet, when his life left him shortly after he had joined Genoa's unit, he had stopped caring about himself. He had decided he wanted a different life, and he was merely fulfilling his contract before he could do so. Truthfully he'd hoped if he left the Army, his wife would come back to him. But, he also realised nothing was written in stone. Pvt. Broussard sat next to him on the bed. He was a short stout man. With the face of a bulldog and a thick cajun accent. Broussard was from New Orleans and damn proud of it. Seafood boils weren't just a cooking event to him, they were a way of life. They were talking about the states, and some of the times they'd had during the war. McHarrigan and Hightower were off in the corner of the room. Both had taken seats in wooden chairs next to a desk.
McHarrigan was reading an old copy of the Boston globe. Holding a pipe in his hand, he softly puffed small thick clouds of smoke from it. McHarrigan cherished these moments.. Tobacco, in particular pipe tobacco, had been a difficult commodity to come by during the war. During their stint in northern Africa, he had forgotten to supply before leaving port in Italy. As a result, McHarrigan had to go without for much of the mission. McHarrian was a short, stout man. He had a wide frame, a shaggy blond mop, and a soft voice with a hint of an irish accent. He tried to hide, but McHarrigan had immigrated from Ireland when he was young. He knew in his heart he still yearned to see those emerald green hills and rolling tides along the beachfront just one more time. Hightower stood up from his chair and peered out of the window. He thought he had seen something move. Something small and red. He got along well with McHarrigan. Normally the two could jest back and forth for hours. But at this moment, he knew that neither McHarrigan nor himself had any energy for that. He was peering out the window into the darkness. He was starting to feel drowsy. His eyes were heavy. "All right, I'm off to bed." Hightower yawned. He crawled under the covers of his twin size bed.
In the next room over, Dancer, Garcia, Gadot, and Horowitz were winding down for the night. Horowitz was typically very talkative. He had curly hair, glasses, and a nasaly voice. Horowitz was also Jewish. He took great pride in serving and defending not only his country, but his people as well. And he was very thankful to be in Genoa's unit. He'd worked hard to prove himself to transfer from his infantry battalion. At the time, Genoa was in need of someone who was agile, had proficient marksmanship, and was capable of speaking German. And it just so happened Horowitz fit the bill. He got along well with Lt. Genoa. After all, Genoa was from Philadelphia and Horowitz was from Brooklyn. They had similar mannerisms, values and senses of humour as such. Moreover what was appreciated was the fact that Genoa generally didn't leave ambiguity in his instructions. Horowitz's previous officer in charge had been infamous for this.
Dancer, Gadot and Garcia were playing peeknucle on a night stand. Horowitz was reading some of his old letters from home, as well as a new one from a female companion he had quite fancied before he left. All of a sudden, the four men jumped to their feet. "You hear that?" Garcia said. "Check it." Gadot muttered. All four had heard. Shuffling outside of the window. Garcia ran over to the window, he thrust it open. Dancer shoved a lantern out into the open, illuminating the dark bushes below. Gadot peered over the side of the window. "Look, it's a dog. By the looks of it, it belongs to someone." Below in the bushes, there was a yellow labrador with a red collar around its neck.
"Get ! Go on!" Garcia hollered. He threw an apple from his pack at it. Bullseye. The apple bonked the dog square on the nose. The labrador winced and sneezed. Then it looked directly at Garcia and snarled before turning to stride away. "That was a bit uncalled for." Horowitz chided him. "Mangy thing, why is it just creeping around at night like that. Serves it right. Maybe now it'll fuck off for home. Teach it to fuck with me." Garcia yawned. The fatigue of the day's journey had begun to catch all of them. They made for bed, and dimmed their lights.
I
A few hours passed. The large grandfather clock in the hall gave two chimes for "0200". It must have awoken Garcia. He peered through the window, there was a large full moon in the sky. Looking from there, he could have swore he saw two yellow eyes in the shadows by the hotel's gazebo. He rubbed his eye's and looked again. He saw nothing. Garcia decided he was still tired and he laid his head back down on his pillow.
The clock chimed again a short while later. "Boooong, booooong, boooong" it was 0300 now. Garcia went to move to cover his head with a pillow only, he discovered he couldn't. And then, he opened his eyes. Slowly, they were heavy. He then tried to move his fingers, and nothing happened. His neck, nothing. His feet nada. All he could do was watch his feet at the edge of the bed. Only, he soon realized that he wasn't alone. At the edge of the bed he saw the dark outline of something moving in the shadows.
Then, it climbed on top of him. Its shape and outline becoming more and more clear. Til finally, on top of him sat the labrador from earlier. "You again, how did you get in here? I'll make sure I - wait. I can't move." Garcia thought. He opened his mouth to try and scream, but no sound came out. The dog smiled ear to ear. Its teeth bared.
"Think it's fun, to just pelt apples at me eh?" The dog muttered. But its mouth didn't move. Its voice was inside Garcia's mind. Garcia screamed ! He could finally move his mouth. Louder and louder, he screamed, but no sound escaped his lips. Suddenly the dog's head rotated around in a full circle, as if it were an owl. Its eyes rolled to the back of its head, all while still maintaining a twisted smile. And then it laughed, it was a disturbing soft chuckle that began high pitched like a little girl and slowly lowered into a distorted growling tone.
Its form began to slowly change. It morphed into a blackoutlined figure, with slanted orange eyes. And it began growling at him. Garcia wanted to faint. To fall back asleep. This had to be a nightmare he was sure of it. The creature moved close to Garcia's face. He felt its breath, he smelled its breath. It smelled of rotten fish and flesh. It was so foul Garcia would have vomited if he had eaten earlier. It nuzzled his face, slowly. Carringly, almost like that of a long gone lover returned. Garcia was mortified. "Lets play a little before you die. You can throw the apple again. Perhaps a game of fetch? Whatever you like Paulo." The creature pressed its face to Garcia's neck. He felt a strange sucking and prickling sensation. Garcia would have rather been storming the bell tower in the Ardennes again than having been in this bed at this very minute.
Finally, he regained control of his voice. He screamed bloody murder. The creature laughed. Dancer and Gadot heard Garcia's screams. Gadot bolted up right and turned in Garcias direction. Gadot sprang out of bed and yelled "FUCK OFF YOU MONSTER!" and aimed a punch that connect directly with Garcia's throat. At this Garcia did vommit, all over the floor. The creature half laughing and half hissed "I'll be back for you!". It clapped its grimy little hands together and disappeared in a puff of black smoke. Garcia was cold, clammy, and covered in vomit and sweat. He slowly got up from the floor. He wiped off his mouth and took a few deep breaths. And then Garcia sat down, his head in his hands. "Are you ok?" Gadot asked. "Yea, I - just need a minute." Garcia replied, still gasping for breath. "Sorry I uh, clocked you a good one" Gadot offered him a cigarette, Garcia accepted it and waved his apology off. Somehow, Horowitz was still sound asleep through this entire ordeal.
"Here take this. I was saving it for the trip back to Berlin. But sharing it won't hurt." Dancer handed him a small bottle of brandy. Garcia took a swig.
"Did you see it? Tell me you saw it. Tell me I'm not going insane." Gadot sighed.
"Yes, I only caught a glimpse, but it was there." Dancer piped in "I saw it. And I had my own run in with it the night before. Hightower said he saw something similar last night too."
Garcia looked relieved."What the fuck was that thing?" Gadot pondered, now finally fully awake and aware of his surroundings.
"I hate to say it. But I think we need to wake Derry and let him know." Gadot said calmly. "I ain't telling Derry shit !" Garcia exclaimed.
"Your gonna talk, or I'm gonna make you talk. I'll stick my hand up your ass and use you for a fuckin sock puppet if I have too!" Gadot was not going to argue at 3 o'clock in the morning with a 19 yr old Pvt who thought he knew better. "We can trust Derry. He's harsh, but he does give a damn about us. Once in the ardennes, I watched him throw himself on a live grenade to try and save us. Funny thing was, it went off. But it was a smoke grenade. Blew a hole in his uniform, gave him an ugly scar across his chest. None of us would've known that though. He would have sacrificed himself for us in the blink of an eye." Gadot murmured rubbing his eyes.
"… Fine. I will speak with derringer." Garcia panted. He wiped a line of sweat from his forhead. "What about the others?"
"I'll get them. Drink some water. I don't want Derry to smell that brandy and think we've been having a good time." Gadot concluded.
Garcia did as instructed. He drank water, dressed himself and was outside the room when Gadot walked up with Hightower. Gadot entered the room quietly.
Genoa was laughing and whispering in his sleep "Maria, stop tickling me. Tell Mike no more meatballs !"
Gadot snickered and made a mental note for later. Derry was snoring loudly.
Gadot nudged him "Hey Sarge, sarge. Wake up, so sorry about this."
Derry grunted "Meeh I thought I told you Pete, you put that rattlesnake back." Gadot nudged him again and lightly slapped his face
"Sarge, Derry c'mon. We got somethin." Gadot whispered in his ear.
At this, Derry jolted awake "huh hrm hurrr, ugh you, what is it? 0330 in the morning. This better not be a fuckin joke."
Gadot led him outside, down the stairs out of the hotel to a gazebo nearby. Both men lit a cigarette, Garcia and Hightower joined them.
Hightower explained his story first, followed by Dancer and finally Garcia and Gadot told him everything they had both seen and had happened that night. From the dog in the bushes, to the shapeshifting figure on his chest.
"Hell, either this was well rehearsed or someone is puttin salt peter in our rations again."
Derry sighed. He puffed his cigarette. He kept calm. He was not happy about being dragged out of bed. But, here he had three different stories. All of them sounding the same. Either this was one hell of a practical joke or…
"So, Gadot you actually saw this … thing?" Derringer asked.
"Yes sarge, I did. But only for a second." Gadot responded. "It vanished before I could get a really good look."
Garcia shifted and he felt a pain on his neck. He put his hand up to it. It was warm. He pulled it away and there was blood. After looking at it. Garcia hit the ground and everything went black. Minutes later, he was back inside the lobby of the tavern. He felt something wet and cold splash his face.
"Hey hey ! Wake up, wake up !" Derringer shouted. Garcia woke up. Hightower, Dancer, Gadot, and Derry had all carried him back into the tavern.
"Whaa, happen?" Garcia gasped.
"You fucking fainted! " Derringer exclaimed. "Here, lemme clean off your neck." He calmly applied a cold cloth to Garcias neck. He wiped away the blood. Hightower was looking on from behind Derringer.
"Thats … different. Here sarge, have a look." Hightower motioned towards Garcia's neck.
"What the fuck" said Derringer.
"What, what is it?! Am I dying?! Am I dead ?!? Oh god I'm dying !" Garcia yelled, turning white again.
"No, the bleedins stopped, doesn't look infected either. you'll live but …" Gadot started but he stopped. All of them looked on at Garcia.
On his neck, two small puncture wounds inside of a bruise in a circular pattern had appeared. "I've just never seen a wound like that." Gadot started.
"Ok, well. I was originally going to write this entire thing off as either you men being tired from the drive, or alcohol, or just everyone going bananas. But, now shiiit the proofs in gramma's biscuits." Derringer said, rubbing his mustache in frustration.
"Aight, you crazy fucks.We'll figure out a better solution tomorrow, for now. I'll stand guard out here til the sun rises. I better not hear a peep out of any of you until then."
They returned to bed. Derry stood watch outside the door, listening for any signs of movement or anything abnormal. Nothing came to pass. Peering out a window by the staircase, all he saw was an old man out for a midnight stroll accompanied by an old woman wearing a red hat. "Odd time of day for a walk." Dancer thought. At 0700, the sun had risen, and Derringer slammed himself back into bed shortly after.